


No Escape

by mcmargentinski713



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Based off a song, Gen, Heavy Angst, Set in 6a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7954501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcmargentinski713/pseuds/mcmargentinski713
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This undertow is pulling me, pulling me<br/>There’s no escape<br/>They’re on the chase<br/>They’re comin’ for us, they’re comin’ for us now<br/>There’s no escape<br/>Nothing is safe<br/>We’re face to face, with no escape</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the song No Escape by Sam Tinnesz (so I highly recommend listening to it on repeat while reading) and off the trailer for 6a. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf, it's characters, or story lines. All rights belong to Jeff Davis and MTV. :)
> 
> Also, note that I edited this myself, so if there's any errors, I apologize and just let me know so I can fix them. Thanks and I hope you enjoy this full on angsty fic.

The day that his classmates since kindergarten start asking him who he is Stiles feels so small, so….so…….he doesn’t know how to feel. 

 

Within a day or so, Hayden doesn’t remember. And it feels like he’s being torn into. How could they forget? How could his friends forget, his pack?

 

By the end of the week, Liam, Mason, and Corey have stared at him vaguely in the halls while they all talk to Lydia, Scott, and Malia. And it starts to feel like more than just a physical wound. Not that it ever was a physical wound. But it starts to feel more real. Like, this is really happening.

 

He’s in the hallway, standing with the pack of whom half the members don’t remember him when it occurs to him. “I’m next.” He says it under his breath.

 

The weekend comes and goes and he heads to Scott’s early Monday morning to tell him there’s no way he’s going to school where no one remembers him. There’s absolutely no way in hell.

 

He knocks on the door and barely a minute passes before it opens to Melissa in her scrubs. “Oh. Um. Hello. Are you one of Scott’s friends?” She asks, clearly not recognizing the boy she raised after he lost his own mother at the tender age of eight.

 

Stiles feels it like a punch to his heart, but he has to pretend her words didn’t just send his mind into a frenzy.

 

“Uh….yeah. Could you tell him Stiles is here to see him?”

 

“Sure.” She answers before turning her head and yelling up the stairs. “Scott! There’s a Stiles here to see you!” 

 

_ There’s a Stiles  _ here to see you. That one phrase is enough to make his world start spinning and his hands start shaking. He feels the knife in his heart digging deeper as the realization occurs that Scott’s going to forget him too. Stiles holds the tears in. Thankfully, Scott hasn’t forgotten him just yet, he thinks when he sees his best friends face at the top of the stairs. Scott’s not looking at him with a vague stare, instead, there’s pity in his eyes because he heard his mom’s key phrase.  _ There’s a Stiles  _ here to see you. 

 

By the end of Tuesday he hears from Lydia that Malia doesn’t remember him. And he can’t take it anymore. He can’t bottle this up, how he’s feeling. It feels like the world is closing in around him, like he can’t breath. And all he wants to do is just scream and punch something- a wall maybe or throw something, kick something- just anything that would help get some of this anger and sadness out. 

 

He doesn’t even care that Lydia’s there, that he might frighten her if he lets his anger out, he erases the words on the clear board in his bedroom and throw the eraser and the marker at it so hard it causes a small crack in the plexiglass. He feels slightly better now as the tears come rolling down his scrunched up cheeks (from screaming). 

 

Lydia’s too scared to go near him. Afraid that he might accidentally take his anger at the world out on her because she’s starting to lose memories of him, hour by hour. The good ones go first. Like the dance- before the whole Peter thing. Or all the times he’s been by her side immediately when she needed him. She’s left with a version of him that isn’t complete. She remembers him yelling at her about how she doesn’t get it. He’ll be devastated if something happens to her. She’s left with memories of him screaming at her when she called the police first instead of him. She’s left with the memory of his body pressed against hers whispering with his raspy voice into her ear about how he feeds on pain, chaos, and strife and how he’s insatiable- though, she doesn’t know that wasn’t actually him. But she stays back anyway- just in case- forgetting that he ever loved her, that he would never dare to hurt her, afraid of what he’ll do to her. 

 

On Thursday, Stiles is looking for Scott before the game, Scott’s running late as usual. He spots the boy under the bridge. “Hey uh, you know Coach was-” 

 

“Looking for new players for the team? Yeah. I’m aware since I’m the team captain.” He finishes Stiles’ sentence. 

 

It doesn’t take Stiles more than two seconds to piece together what just happened. His mind goes blank and he feels like he can’t move. 

 

Scott obviously is unaware of Stiles’ semi-paralysis. “You know, you should try out. You look like you play lacrosse.” He places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. 

 

Stiles just nods, slightly, still frozen, mentally, emotionally, and physically. 

 

Then, Scott’s walking past his best friend without knowing who he is. And Stiles whispers, “Yeah, that’s cause I’m on the team.” 

 

It just so happens that Lydia shows up seconds later, looking for Stiles. She doesn’t even know why until she sees him frozen, face staring off in the direction of Scott, eyes glassy. 

 

She remembers even less of him now, but for some reason she still wants to comfort the boy who as far as her memory goes is a killer. Her arms wrap around his frame and his hands come up to curl around her arms, his face leaning on her head as the choked sobs escape him. The pair falls, knees hitting the puddle underneath them. 

 

And Stiles swears he sees something that looks vaguely like the Ghost Riders out of the corner of his eyes, but he ignores what it clearly means. 

 

Something goes terribly wrong during the game. It’s almost the end of the fourth quarter when suddenly a kid from the other team drops in the middle of a play, he’s in open territory and he’s clutching his chest, unable to breathe. Melissa’s at his side in record speed, whispering reassuring words to him. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” She’s holding the boy’s hand. “I promise.” 

 

A second later she’s yelling for someone to call an ambulance. But by the time the ambulance arrives, it’s too late. The boy has stopped breathing. The cops are called as soon as he’s presumed dead. 

 

Everyone’s being ushered away from the field and into the parking lot. But of course, both lacrosse teams are being questioned by the police. Stiles sneaks his way into the school to talk to his dad or someone, anyone. 

 

For a second forgetting that no one remembers him.

 

Natalie Martin stops him. "Why are you running in here? You should be going home, sweetie." She says, not recognizing him as the boy who saved her daughter merely weeks before. 

 

But only for a second. 

 

He stops running to ask Liam something when he gets a look of confusion from the boy. “Right. You don’t remember me.” He pants and then he sees his dad and races over to him. 

 

“Son, are you okay?” The sheriff asks, looking at the boy running towards him, out of breath. 

 

“Slow down, slow down.” 

 

Stiles listens. He’s panting, a little. 

 

“Now tell me your name, son.” 

 

And just like that Stiles thinks he’s gonna pass out. The world around him is blurring, he feels his mind fogging up, pressure building in his head as his breathing speeds up again. Again he sees a Ghost Rider lurking in the shadows. 

 

_ Hiding in the shadows, million miles tall  _

_ Walking on a wire, trying not to fall  _

_ But where can I go, to get away, get away? _

 

He has to get out of here. 

 

_ This undertow is pulling me, pulling me  _

_ There’s no escape  _

_ They’re on the chase  _

_ They’re comin’ for us, they’re comin’ for us now  _

_ There’s no escape  _

_ Nothing is safe  _

_ We’re face to face, with no escape  _

 

Next thing he knows he’s running out of the building, ready to collapse. He needs to get somewhere. Anywhere. 

 

His jeep. 

 

He runs again, losing his balance. 

 

“Stiles!” Lydia calls, at least she still knows his name. 

 

She races to him. She doesn’t understand why she cares about this boy so much, but she just goes with it.

 

_ Wrestlin’ with feelings we don’t understand  _

_ Every single secret, blood on our hands  _

_ We’re right on the edge, givin’ in, givin’ in _

_ But we can pretend it’s not the end  _

 

“What’s happening? Are you having a panic attack?” 

 

He looks at her, nodding, frantically. “My jeep.” He pants. 

 

She helps him in and gets in on the other side, turning to him immediately. 

 

“Lydia, please, whatever happens…don’t forget me.” He pleads. 

 

She looks at him, confused. “What are you talking about Stiles? Why would I forget-” 

 

“Just promise you won’t forget me.” He cuts her off, watching the Ghost Riders circle his jeep.

 

With wide, tearful eyes, she says, “I won’t.” Her voice cracking. 

 

Before he loses his chance to ever kiss her again, he cups her face, and pulls her into a desperate, emotion filled kiss. For a moment they can pretend this isn’t the end. 

 

That’s when Lydia realizes what’s happening. She feels her throat tightening with a scream.

 

She pulls away from the kiss. “Stiles?” Her voice on the verge of crying. 

 

_ There’s no escape  _

_ They’re on the chase  _

_ They’re comin’ for us, they’re comin’ for us now  _

_ There’s no escape _

_ Nothing is safe  _

_ We’re face to face, with no escape _

 

The Ghost Riders are right behind him. 

 

“Stiles, run!” She screams. 

 

_ We can run, we can run, but we won’t get far  _

_ Loaded gun, loaded gun, pointed at our hearts  _

_ No one to trust, it’s dangerous  _

_ We can run, we can run, but we won’t get far  _

 

“Stiles!” 

 

He makes the mistake of turning his head, his brown eyes meet the darkness of the Ghost Riders. 

 

_ We can run, we can run, but we won’t get far (there’s no escape)  _

_ Loaded gun, loaded gun, pointed at our hearts (nothing is safe) _

 

The whip is raised, ready to strike the window. 

 

_ No one to trust, it’s dangerous  _

_ We can run, we can run, but we won’t get far  _

 

Glass shatters as the whip comes down on it. Stiles feels the strike of the whip burn on his back and the glass cut into his skin and muscles. He yells in pain.

 

_ We won’t get far  _

 

A cloud of vibrant green smoke fills Lydia’s vision. 

 

_ We won’t get far  _

 

She feels herself struggling to breath as it fills her lungs.

 

_ There’s no escape  _

 

_ We won’t get far  _

 

_ We won’t get far  _

 

_ There’s no escape  _

 

It disappears and Stiles is no longer there. Lydia falls forward, sobbing into her hands for a boy she doesn’t remember, which makes her scream.

**Author's Note:**

> Unimportant side note, but for those wondering, I know normally the spacing on my fics is smaller, but I thought this one looked better with larger spacing. So yeah. Haha


End file.
